The jackal, howling at the moon,
got confused.
He focused his eyes at the firefly,
and just mused,
about the idea that stars could fly.

He went and told this to the hyena,
that he saw a star dance by his nose.
But the hyena laughed,
laughed at the moment of seriousness,
yeah, at the seriousness, I suppose.

Meanwhile, that firefly, seeing the jackal’s glowing eyes,
thought that this was the god, the god of the fireflies.
She told this to the bee, the great communicator and translator,
to spread the news.
But the bee, feasting on honey, still intoxicated,
got things even more confused.
She told the wasps that there was this
jackal who strived to be king,
the king of insects.

So in the morning, the jackal, dreaming of fireflies
woke to the sound of beating wings.
Raising his head, he had a swarm of wasps in his eyes.

His sudden death didn’t change that many things.

The fireflies lost a god.
The wasps suppressed this great king.
The hyena lost his joke,
bee didn’t lose or gain a thing.

April 1997